An Apple a Day
As the last vestiges of daylight vanished and the Sanctum's native flora began its nightly luminescent display, Leo knew it was time for his photoshoot.
He gestured to Elara, who was still sitting peacefully on the log, that he needed to work. She nodded in understanding, her silver eyes watching him with gentle curiosity.
He carefully selected the most perfect apple from the tree. Its deep crimson skin seemed to absorb the twilight and reflect the glow of the surrounding mushrooms. He placed it on a cushion of iridescent moss.
"Okay, guys, I need your help again," he whispered. Two fairies, a golden one and the feisty red one, zipped over to him. He gently guided them into position, one on each side of the apple. He found that their combined light—the warm gold and the fiery red—created a dynamic, captivating glow, as if the apple itself contained a living flame. He snapped several pictures, certain he had captured the magic.
His work done, he began to pack his harvest basket. He filled it with the remaining apples from the tree, leaving none behind. The fairies would ensure the tree produced more by morning.
Before he left, he walked over to Elara. He separated nearly half of the perfect, shimmering apples from his basket and offered them to her. "For your help," he said simply. "And... for your people."
She looked from the generous offering to his face, and her smile held a warmth that seemed to compete with the glowing plants around them. She accepted the gift with a graceful nod, her fingers brushing his for a fraction of a second longer than was necessary. The familiar electric tingle shot up his arm.
He allowed himself to admire her for a moment more, a silent, appreciative gaze that he hoped conveyed everything he couldn't say with words. She met his gaze without shyness, a silent understanding passing between them in the magical twilight.
With a final, small smile, Leo turned, shouldered his basket, and vanished through his portal.
Back in the bright, artificial light of his garage-office, the spell of the Sanctum was broken, but the feeling of peace remained. He immediately got to work, uploading his new, stunning photo to the Clarity website. He created the new product page with a now-practiced efficiency.
Clarity Apple: The Fruit of Enlightenment
Cultivated in a place where thought and nature intertwine. This is not merely a fruit, but a catalyst for cognition. A single bite can clear mental fog, sharpen focus, and enhance memory. Recommended for students, artists, and thinkers seeking a breakthrough.
(Product enhanced by the natural essence of symbiotic sprites. More sprites = greater effect.)
He added the parenthetical note as a way to explain the multiple fairies in the picture, hoping his customers would understand it as a mark of supreme quality rather than question his sourcing of "sprites."
Then came the price. The water was for wellness. The vegetables were for targeted restoration. But this... this improved the mind itself. In a competitive world, what was that worth? He thought of CEOs, day traders, and graduate students. They'd pay a fortune for an edge.
Price: $80 per apple.
He stared at the number. It was ludicrous. It was a price that scoffed at reality. And it felt exactly right. Clarity wasn't about being affordable; it was about being effective.
With his website updated, he carefully packed the apples he'd brought back into a temperature-controlled crate. Tomorrow morning, he would drop them off at the new warehouse, where his father and Maria would log them into the official inventory. He'd instruct them to fulfill any apple orders with the same care they gave their most fragile cargo.
He had officially become an eighty-dollar-an-apple grocer. And as he finally headed to bed, his mind, still tingling with the cool clarity of the fruit, was already calculating how many more apple trees he needed to plant.